Dear John
by Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs
Summary: "The girl in the dress cried the whole way home." Mack/Brian, heavy mentions of Will/Mackenzie. The first time she cheated. Pre-series.


A/N: My friends Tasmin and Becki are to blame for this; I never, _ever_ asked for Mackenzie/Brian feelings.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of The Newsroom.

"_You are an expert at sorry, and keeping the lines blurry," –'Dear John', Taylor Swift_

* * *

She was drunk.

It was a Friday, and Will was in LA for a conference. He'd called her to tell her he'd be coming home in a week, that the hotel room was too big and empty without her, and that he'd miss her.

Then he'd told her he loved her and hung up.

And here she was, sitting in her apartment, an almost-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and her cell phone in her hands. She loved Will, she really did; he was the perfect guy for her, and she knew she was the luckiest woman in the world for being the one he'd chosen to love.

So why had she answered the call from Brian? Why had she allowed herself to be sucked back into the relationship from three years ago?

Because she was a fucking moron with something to prove, that's why.

There was a knock at the front door and she rose, taking a second to regain her balance before padding to the door and opening it, revealing her ex-boyfriend.

"Hey Mack," Brian Brenner said, a bottle of tequila in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in another. "I got your favorites while I was in London."

"Why did you call after three years Brian?" Mackenzie asked, working hard not to get sucked into the way he scratched the back of his neck or the way his jeans sat low on his hips. Whereas Will was clean-shaven and put-together, Brian was scruffy and rugged, more prone to t-shirts and jeans without a belt when he wasn't at work.

It still surprised her they'd been together for as long as they had when they were almost polar opposites.

"I miss you Mack," he said after a few long, drawn-out moments, and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd just invented that reason off the top of his head. She shifted her stance and folded her arms over her chest, her loose tank top riding up and exposing a strip of pale skin just above the waistband of her running shorts. She watched as Brian's eyes traced the lines of her hipbones; he'd done it once with his tongue.

"It took you three years to miss me?" she asked, biting her lip when he dragged his hand through his thick, unruly dark hair and blew out a breath.

"At least invite me inside?" Brian asked, and Mackenzie held her breath for a moment before opening the door further and letting him brush past her; his heat and scent overpowered her for a moment and she swallowed the sound in her throat before it could escape.

"I told you to come because I wanted to say that-" she tried to fumble through her alcohol-infused thoughts for what, exactly, she'd wanted to tell him. He seemed to ignore her; he grabbed the shot glasses from her kitchen cabinet and brought them over to the couch, opening the tequila and beginning to pour it into the three rows of two. With his friend hand he dug out his lighter, tossing it to her; she just managed to catch it, looking at him.

"Open the cigarettes; I know you like to smoke with your tequila," he said, and the fact that he remembered that about her made her resolve lessen. Unsteadily she moved to the couch, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and pulling one out, lighting it between her lips and inhaling shakily, the nicotine rushing to her head.

Brian offered her one of the shots, the look in his eyes one she almost remembered. She took it, and after allowing him to clink the edges of their glasses together, pulling the cigarette from her mouth and threw her head back as she took the shot; the tequila burned her throat and she swallowed, coughing once from a mixture of the tequila and the smoke.

"Brian-" Mackenzie started, but was cut off by his mouth on hers; a rough, uncoordinated kiss. He pulled back and handed her another shot; she took it because she was shocked and didn't know what else to do.

Glass clinked glass and then her throat burned again; the wine and tequila combined and she could barely think straight. His stubble scratched her throat when he went to kiss behind her ear, his words a rough whisper.

"I want you."

No, no she couldn't do this, she couldn't hurt Will like this she couldn't- oh but he was kissing her neck the way she liked and what if _just this once_ she let herself do this, to get over Brian, to ease the break in her heart he had caused. His mouth moved down her collarbone as his hands shoved her tank top out of the way, and she was desperately trying to tell herself why this was a bad idea.

Somehow they stumbled to the bedroom, and Mackenzie shut the door with a loud thud as he pushed her back against it. He tasted like tequila and cigarettes and cheating; she held back the choking sob that filled her throat.

She tugged at the waistband of his jeans, shoving them off his hips as he pulled her tank top over her head, fingers struggling with the clasp of her bra. She shoved him away and finished undressing herself, giving him the message to do the same.

The sheets smelled like Will, and it was like a slap in the face as Brian climbed in instead of Will. His mouth moved over her torso, and she buried her face in the pillow that smelled the most like Will, trying to imagine that it was him; Brian slid inside her and her breath caught in her throat.

He was rough; rougher than Will, and Mackenzie bit her lip when his hips jarred against hers.

She couldn't stop comparing Brian to Will; Brian disliked when she was vocal, whereas Will couldn't get enough noise from her. Will was attentive to how close she was; Brian almost never finished her off if he went first. Will kissed her, bit her lip, scraped his teeth of her jaw; Brian buried his face in her shoulder and that was it.

Brian's movements became jerky and she knew he was almost there; she slid a hand between them and pulled at her own clit, knowing she'd never make it any other way. That's how it was with Brian; fend for yourself.

Then he was done and rolled off of her; she ached and hated herself and he was _so warm_ next to her but the bed still smelled like _Will_ and-

"I'll text you," he mumbled against her head as he slid from the bed, finding his clothes. Mackenzie didn't turn to look at him, she kept her eyes scrunched shut and bit her lip, so hard she drew blood, the coppery taste covering her tongue.

She distantly heard her apartment door shut a handful of minutes later, and she tentatively uncurled her clenched limbs, moving carefully onto her back. Everything was spinning; the alcohol was heavy in her system, and she felt sick.

He hadn't even stayed the night.

This had been such a wrong, horrible, _awful_ mistake. She thought of Will, on the opposite side of the country, and hated herself. Slowly she dressed in comfortable pants and a t-shirt, shoving her feet into a pair of tennis sneakers.

She called a cab and went to Will's apartment, trying desperately not to make a sound and alert the driver to her distress. She rode the elevator up to his floor, unlocked the door, and collapsed onto the bed.

Her phone rang and she froze; she couldn't talk to Will right now because he'd _know_ something was wrong and God _why was this happening to her_, why had she been so stupid?

Her phone stopped ringing after a few minutes and she swallowed, burying her face back in his pillow, trying to breathe. Then there was the beep that told her there she had a voicemail, and she swallowed, picking the phone up and pressing play.

"_Hey, Mack, it's Will. I know you're sleeping, so I just wanted you to wake up to this. I love you, and…"_

She shut it off because it could go any further because she'd started to cry again. She hated herself, and what she'd done. The only thing she could do now was forget about it and never let it happen again.

* * *

Brian texted her a month later when Will was having drinks with some college friends.

She said yes.


End file.
